chapter Five
She paused a few yards from the cottage and glanced back to see if he was pursuing her. He wasn’t. She threw back her shoulders, sucked in a deep breath, and gave herself a figurative pat on the back.
I showed him. He won’t mess with me again. Wobbly knees and pounding heart be darned. I showed him who’s in charge around here.
A smug little smile on her lips, she headed for the boat house. As she made her way over the root-roughened foot path carpeted with pine needles, childhood memories flooded back, and she slowed her pace. She and Gramps had walked this trail so many times when she was a little girl. Sometimes she’d put her small hand in his large one and enjoy the sense of warmth and security. Other times she’d skip ahead of him, making him laugh at her antics.
When she reached the boathouse, she pulled his jacket about her and sat down on the weathered old park bench near its open doorway. In spite of the sunlight bathing her in a soft pool of warmth, she recognized the cold nip in the air that characterized the early reluctance of spring in this country. With a sigh she turned up the woolly collar, stuffed cold fingers beneath her armpits, and cuddled into a corner. She needed time to think, time to straighten out the tangle of thoughts and emotions Heath Oakes had snarled about her mind.
She gazed out at the river rushing past, glinting in the sun. Jack Adams had loved the North Passage and gloried in all its moods and caprices.
“It was meant to continue forever,” he’d said, his arm about his granddaughter as they’d sat together on this same bench over a dozen years ago. “Like life through a family.”
And she was all that was left to keep their family going. She and…Paul? Somehow she couldn’t bring him into focus as a viable current in the stream that was the Adams dynasty.
A squirrel scampered down a tree trunk and sat up on its haunches in front of her. It stared at her with wide, inquisitive eyes. Memory rushed back…Sammy, the baby squirrel she’d spent hours nursing through babyhood during her last summer at the Chance.
She’d been fourteen the summer she’d found Sammy lying helpless at the bottom of a tree. When she could find no nest to return him to, she’d carried him back to the Lodge. With her grandfather’s help, she’d made a tiny bed for him, a piece of blanket in an empty screwdriver box.
At Jack’s instruction, she’d dug out a doll’s bottle from among her discarded toys and begun feeding the little creature. Three weeks later she and Jack had released a nearly adult Sammy back into the forest, fit and ready for his life on the Chance.
The memory brought another into her mind. The memory of how she’d glanced up one day, as she sat feeding Sammy on the veranda steps, to see sixteen-year-old Heath slouched into a James Dean stance against a tree, hips thrust forward, thumbs hooked into the pockets of faded jeans as he watched her.
Something in those intense eyes had sent her adolescent body into a whirl, awakening a myriad of sensations. He’d been the embodiment of every teenage girl’s romantic bad-boy image.
I was one stupid kid. Dragging up memories isn’t any good. Heath Oakes was an inner-city hoodlum. All that changed is that now he’s a wilderness hoodlum. As soon as Gramps’ will is read and the Armstrongs are legally in possession of the Chance, I’ll kick him out of my life once and for all.
She got up from the bench and headed back to the Lodge, her strides long and determined.
At noon, dressed in the black suit she’d worn to the funeral, Allison placed a plate of sandwiches on the dining room table. She winced as she passed a mirror. Skirt and jacket looked as if she’d poured herself into them, thanks to that barbarian and his dryer. She’d had no choice. It was the only outfit she had that was suitable for a somber occasion like a will reading. The jeans and tops she’d brought and worn on the plane were far too casual, intended only for comfort after months of business suits and high heels.
She glanced down at the jacket straining at its buttons. Thanks to that stupid savage, I look like some kind of kinky hooker.
She headed back into the kitchen to check on the coffee. Giving the too-short skirt a downward tug, she pushed through the swinging door.
“Good morning.” Heath stood leaning against the counter, arms crossed on his chest. Dressed in a charcoal suit, white shirt, gray silk tie, and shining black dress shoes, only the below-the-ears hair and weather-bronzed complexion gave evidence of his woodsman persona. His gaze meandered over her from head to foot, one corner of his mouth quirking upward.
“Oh, right!” She stopped short and planted her feet apart, hands on her hips. “Make me look bad, why don’t you. Where was that get-up yesterday? It’s what you should have worn to the funeral.”
“To drive a tractor down a mud bog of a road and shovel in a grave?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Well…” She strode over to the coffeemaker and checked its progress. When she glanced at him, she saw him watching her with that catlike intensity she was coming to know only too well. It’s as if he can see right down into my deepest thoughts and emotions.
“What are you planning to do once the will is read?” He snapped her out of her inane thoughts.
“Catch the next flight home.” She reached for cups on the top shelf and felt her skirt ride up. Grabbing at it, she stepped back.
“Here, let me.” He brushed past her with a scent of something like the forest after a spring shower. Or a really nice masculine soap.
“How many?” He’d paused with a pair of cups in his hands, looking down at her with those mesmerizing golden-brown eyes.
“What? Oh, four should be enough. I’m not sure if the lawyer will be coming alone. Best to be prepared.” Her words stumbled. I’m CFO of a major corporation. I’m the first female executive they’ve had in one hundred and fifty years of operation. Now this…this savage is turning me into a stuttering teenager just by smelling half-decent and looking…
“Saucers?” He placed four cups on the counter.
“What? Oh, right, of course, saucers.”
“There you go.” He put them beside the cups but didn’t move away from her. “Now back to our previous conversation. You know I was asking what you’ll do with the Chance.” His words were hard and clipped this time, even as his continued proximity made butterflies burst from cocoons in the centre of her body.
“Still a little cranky from our scuffle this morning, are we?” She pulled herself out of his sphere of control and sauntered across the kitchen to take coffee spoons from a drawer. Getting back in the game, girl. Good for you.
“Old news. Right now I’m concerned about seeing Jack’s wishes carried out.”
“I assume my mother, being his only child, will inherit everything…except the legendary salmon rod.” She swung to face him. “When she does, she’ll have no choice but to sell. She’s not about to leave my father in order to operate this place, and he can’t relocate here.”
“Jack wanted the Chance to stay in his family.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“You could take it over.” He moved to tower above her. “You’re supposed to be a financial wizard, a pioneer female executive in that company of yours, according to Jack.”
“Me? Take on this place?” The words were a gusty exhale. “Are you crazy?”
“You’ve got a responsibility to Jack’s memory.” He strode over to the percolator and took a mug from a cupboard above it. “What did you leave behind in Toronto? A high-priced chrome-and-glass apartment and an office with a view of the next high-rise? Maybe some stiff-assed boyfriend with about as much guts as a worm?”
“That coffee is for lunch.” She snatched the cup from his hand.
“Fine. Maybe it’s time I hit some of Jack’s twelve-year-old Scotch.”
He started toward the dining room, but she dashed to block his way.
“Oh, no, you don’t! I won’t have whiskey on your breath when the lawyer arrives.”
“Stop giving orders.” His eyes glinted gold fire. “You don’t own this place yet.”
“Technically, no, but actually, yes. Watch it, Mister God’s Gift to Women, or I’ll fire you here and now!” She was on tiptoes trying to get face to face with him as she sputtered out her threat, and suddenly he burst out laughing.
“You do that,” he chuckled finally. “You just do that, boss lady. There’re guests arriving in two weeks, and you haven’t one sweet clue how to deal with them.”
Before she could catch her breath, he caught her by the shoulders, pulled her close and brought his mouth down over hers in a mouth-consuming, breathtaking kiss. Drawn full length against his body so fast she didn’t have time to conjure a response, her instincts took over…and she kissed him back, full mouth, tongue to tongue.
“Vehicle.” He pushed her out at arms’ length, head tilted, listening. “Probably the lawyer.”
He turned and strode out to meet the newcomer. As the door slammed shut behind him, Allison collapsed against a counter.
Wow! Oh, good lord, no! Not wow. Definitely not wow.
****
Matthew Chamberlain was a tall, handsome, gray-haired man, well groomed and professional. He took the place Allison indicated at the head of the dining room table, declined the sandwiches, accepted a cup of black coffee, then opened his brief case and took out his reading glasses.
As the attorney began to sort through the papers inside his satchel, Allison, seated on his right, took the opportunity to narrow her eyes and purse her lips at Heath, seated across from her. He responded with a syrupy smile that made her blood pressure surge.
“Ah, here it is.” Matthew Chamberlain drew out a document and opened it on the table. “There is, of course, the usual sound mind, etc., preamble, which I’m sure you’re both familiar with and so I’ll leave it unread. Then Jack—Mr. Adams—goes on to mention a particular salmon rod, one with some special significance to you, I believe, Mr. Oakes.” He paused and looked at Heath over his glasses.
“Yes.” He leaned back in his chair, looking smugly vindicated.
“Well, it’s yours.”
Allison stifled a sigh of relief. The rest of the estate would be her mother’s inheritance.
“Now, here it gets a bit involved.” The lawyer settled deeper into his chair and adjusted his glasses. “Mr. Adams was adamant that his real estate, namely this area known as the Chance, be maintained as pristine wilderness and an educational area to enlighten future generations to the need for preservation of it and all places like it. As well…” Matthew Chamberlain raised his gaze from the papers and looked sharply at first Heath and then Allison.
Yes, yes, go on! Get to the point.
“Mr. Adams wanted the Chance to remain in his family in perpetuity. With this in mind, he left forty-nine percent to his granddaughter, Allison Armstrong, and…”
“Fifty-one percent to his daughter, Myra,” Allison finished and leaned back in her chair, lips drawn firmly into a smug smile.
“Good.” Heath started to rise. “I know Myra will do the right thing by this place.”
“A moment, please.” The lawyer gestured Heath back into his chair. “You’re both mistaken. Mr. Adams did not leave the remaining fifty-one percent to Mrs. Armstrong.”
“What? But you said he wanted the Chance to stay in the family!”
“And, according to his thinking, it will, Ms. Armstrong.” The attorney glanced briefly over at her before turning to Heath. “He left another forty-nine percent to his acquired son, Heath Oakes.”
“Acquired son?” Allison was on her feet, her breath coming in outraged, incredulous gasps. “What in hell does that mean? You can acquire a new dress, or a new car, but not a son!”
“It’s merely the adjective Jack Adams chose to explain his relationship with Mr. Oakes.” Matthew Chamberlain remained unruffled. “He never legally adopted him, but he’d come to regard him as his own child.”
“I don’t believe it! Gramps must have been ill or on medication when he made that will. Otherwise, he’d never have left almost half of the place he cherished to a…a jailbird!”
She was on her feet, leaning across the table toward Heath who’d remained stone silent since the announcement of his inheritance.
“If you’re referring to Mr. Oakes’ past…er… unfortunate brush with the law, I can assure you Jack was convinced nothing of that nature would ever again occur.”
“Well, I’m not. I don’t even know what he did. He could have robbed or pillaged or raped or…”
“I stole a car.” Heath cut off her ranting.
The hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth further infuriated her. Plopping herself back down into her chair, she crossed her arms on her chest with such violence she felt the shoulder seams at the back of her shrunken jacket rip.
“If you’d care to proceed, Mr. Chamberlain, I believe Ms. Armstrong is prepared to listen.” Heath’s smile turned condescending. “Although she seems to have ignored the fact—or perhaps is not yet aware of it—there remains an outstanding two percent of ownership, which is all important when you consider they hold the balance of power.”
Of course! That two percent belongs to Mom. The Armstrongs are back in the driver’s seat! She shot him what she hoped was her most triumphant look.
“This is where the will becomes…ah…shall we say, a bit original.” Matthew Chamberlain looked from one to the other over his glasses.
“Original? What do you mean, original?” Allison was leaning toward him, hands gripping the edge of the table. “Those controlling shares have to belong to my mother.”
“Actually, no.” The attorney returned his attention to his papers. “They were left in a trust, to be administered jointly by its members.”
“A trust? Members? What members? Who?”
“That I can’t tell you, Ms. Armstrong. Mr. Adams made the concealment of their identities a top priority. Oh, and there is another stipulation. No one of the property holders can sell their shares unless all parties are in agreement. Now, if you’ll both just sign here where it states that you’ve heard and understand…”
He slid the sheaf of papers toward Allison, indicated where she was to sign, and offered her his pen.
“I’m not signing anything until I have my corporate lawyer examine the document.” Allison stood and put her hands on her hips.
“Ms. Anderson, I assure you it’s all perfectly legal and unshakeable.” Matthew Chamberlain, QC, got up to face her. “Jack Adams spent time and effort making this will. It’s one of the most ironclad I’ve ever encountered.”
“Nevertheless, I insist on further legal advice.”
“Very well.” The lawyer gave an exasperated sigh and began to gather up his papers. “You can pick up a copy from my office when you come into town. I’ll have my secretary prepare one for you.”
“Thank you.” She glanced defiantly over at Heath. The calm coolness on his handsome, sun-bronzed face made her hate him even more.
Five minutes later, Allison watched as Matthew Chamberlain got into his rented Tracker and drove away.
“Seems we finally have something in common.” Heath turned from watching the lawyer out of sight and looked up at her.
She stood on the top step of the Lodge’s back porch, leaning against the door, her hands clasped behind her, her head thrown back so that she gazed skyward.
“There has to be a mistake. Gramps would never do anything this crazy.”
“It’s what he wanted, and we owe it to him to try to make it work.”
“Maybe you owe him. I certainly don’t!”
She whirled and would have strode into the Lodge had he not bounded catlike up the steps and seized her arm. He spun her to face him, eyes narrowed.
“Oh, yes, you do, Miss High-and-Mighty! You owe him for years of neglect and loneliness. Jack understood the reason for your mother’s absences—her fundraising for needy sick kids—and he was proud of her. But you! You had lots of time for vacations at all the holiday hot spots. He showed me the postcards. But not a single day to visit your grandfather. There’s no excuse good enough for what you did.”
“Let me go! Don’t you dare try to heap guilt on me. Not when you’re responsible. Not when you were the last one to see him alive!”
“Oh, so we’re back to that, are we?” Their faces were inches apart as they stood glaring at each other against the kitchen door. “I suppose the will further strengthens my culpability as a murder suspect, does it?”
“Your vocabulary may have gotten better, but not your manners,” she shot back. “I’m catching the afternoon plane to Toronto. My corporate lawyer will have this mess straightened out by the weekend. My mother will own this place, lock, stock, and barrel, and you’ll be out on the street!”
She shrugged free of his restraining hand, yanked open the screen door, all but knocking him off the step, and strode into the Lodge.
****
What was he going to do about her? Heath stood on the back steps and drew a deep breath. That will had landed him and her in a fine mess. Bound like Siamese twins in ownership of the Chance, they’d have to find some way to coexist until they discovered who held that powerful two percent. Then, and only then, could they begin to resolve the situation.
Too bad it had to be her entangled with him. She hadn’t changed. She was still one stuck-up rich girl with no appreciation of this place Jack Adams had taught him to love and respect. And the way she’d treated Jack all those years, refusing to visit him, leaving him alone after his wife had died… Heartless little bitch.
Loosening his tie and yanking it off over his head, he strode toward his cabin. Who had he been trying to impress by wearing this stupid monkey suit? Had he been stupid enough to think he could throw her for a loop by showing her he could look as sharp as any of those corporate types she worked with at the supposedly impressive job in the city?
Hell! I’m not some city dude. I could see the contempt in her eyes when she looked at me at the church. I dressed for the funeral in remembrance of Jack and the good times. He wouldn’t have recognized me in this getup. Damn it, he’d be laughing if he could see me now.
He took the steps to his home two at a time and strode inside. The homey ambience of the place had a calming effect. He removed his jacket and let the peace of the small kitchen restore his equilibrium. What did it matter what he’d done, what he wore? In a few hours she’d be on a plane back to Toronto. With any luck, the lawyers would handle everything, and he’d never have to see her again.
He went into his bedroom, pulled off his clothes, hung his suit in the closet, and headed into the bathroom. He’d showered that morning, but the encounter with Matthew Chamberlain and Allison had left him hot and sticky.
As the water gushed over him, he tried to keep the thought of her as a royal pain, as a burr in his side, but the image of her in those stupid pink pajamas flooded across his mind, and he couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at his lips. Another image formed and more than his lips reacted. The image of her in his arms, the sensation of her lips, her body molding into his…
She’s a miserable, money-grubbing little witch. Don’t go getting hot after her. That would be just plain stupid.
His body didn’t listen. It had a mind of its own where beautiful, sexy Allison Armstrong was concerned. And he hated it.
He was pulling on his bush pants when a knock sounded at his door.
“Heath?” Damn it, what now?
“Yeah?”
“I’m ready.”
“Ready?”
“To go to the airport. You have to drive me. Well, that is, unless you want me to take the Cherokee and leave it there for you to pick up…which would be difficult since then you’d have two vehicles in town…”
“Okay, okay, I’m coming.” He pulled a clean white T-shirt over his head and grabbed a plaid shirt from the closet. Man, I’ll be glad when she’s gone.
In the kitchen, she stood by the door in a shaft of afternoon sunlight and a soft orange turtleneck that accentuated her peaches-and-cream complexion and the soft, shining, artistic tangle of her chestnut curls. Some brand of expensive, hip-hugging jeans highlighted the alluring curves below. Oh, hell, and double hell. Body behave…just for another hour or so.
****
“Do you date much?”
“What?” His head jerked to face her. They were driving down the highway toward the airport a half hour later when she broke the silence they’d maintained all the way from the Chance.
“I asked if you date much. Women must be pretty scarce, away back in the woods. Available women, that is.” He caught the innuendo.
“I don’t fool around with guests, married or otherwise.” He returned his attention to the road and fought to control the annoyance that had formed a sharper retort. “Don’t try to be subtle about asking.”
“What about the local ladies?” Head held high and slightly cocked, she stared through the windshield into the spring sunlight.
“I don’t see how my social life is any concern of yours.” He gripped the wheel until his knuckles were hard as walnuts.
“I guess it isn’t, not really. I’m just curious to see if you’ll be leaving any romantic interest when I terminate your position. Or maybe you’ll stay in Portage and get a job cutting timber or guiding hunters.”
“You’re really trying to get to me, are you?” He tried to ignore the anger swelling in his gut. “You hate me that much?”
“That much.” She swung to face him, and he saw fury snapping from eyes as green as the burgeoning leaves at the Chance.
“Okay, fine.” He turned the Cherokee into the parking lot of the small airport, where a commuter plane was warming up on the runway. “Seems like we’ve made it.” He swung to a stop at the terminal doors and got out, his rapid strides to the back of the vehicle punctuating his annoyance.
“Here.” He plunked her suitcase at the entrance. “Safe journey.”
With a plethora of feelings roiling in his gut, he climbed back into the Jeep and gunned back toward the highway. He had to find some way to get that irritating woman out from under his skin.
Wonder what Jesse is doing for dinner tonight?
He swung the Jeep into the parking lot beside the former Victorian lumber baron’s house that now served at the town’s clinic and emergency hospital. Climbing out, he grinned as he read the sign: Dr. Jessica Henderson, MD. Yeah, that’s just what I need…an evening with the good doctor.
“Heath.” The silver-haired receptionist rose to greet him as he entered the foyer that had been converted into a now-empty waiting room. “It’s so good to see you. How have you been?” She lowered her tone over the last sentence. “You must miss Jack. I saw you at the funeral yesterday but didn’t get an opportunity to talk to you or his daughter. The chestnut-haired girl in the black suit must have been Jack’s granddaughter. My, she’s grown into quite a lady…a big-city lady, that is.”
Heath caught the note of deprecation in her last sentence and had to hold back a grin. He knew Mrs. Henderson had hopes for her own daughter and him. She wouldn’t welcome anyone who might push that dream any further from reality.
“She is that. Big city, that is. I just put her on a plane back to Toronto. Is Jesse busy?”
“No, no, finished with the last patient before you came in.” The alacrity in her tone upped immediately. “Wait here. I’ll fetch her.”
Heath let the grin come as she bustled into the office behind her desk. Some day he and Jesse would have to tell her the truth about their relationship. Man, he wasn’t looking forward to that day. Somehow he couldn’t see Mrs. Henderson accepting the friends-with-benefits thing.
****
“So she’s on her way back to Toronto to see if her lawyers can screw you out of your share of the Chance.” Doctor Jessica Henderson replaced her wine glass on the table and looked over at Heath. They were seated in Douglas O’Brien’s restaurant, the only eatery in Portage other than a couple of fast-food outlets. A candle cast shadows over the couple in the room bathed in twilight and the scent of freshly baked bread and apple pies.
“I guess.” He shrugged as he reached for his beer.
“Heath, you can’t let her do it.” A strong, slender hand reached to cover his on the bottle. “You love that place. Jack loved that place. You owe it to both of you to fight back.”
“How?” He looked over at her.
“Get your own lawyer.” He saw the blaze in her brown eyes, Man, she was beautiful.
“If you hadn’t become a doctor, you could have been a model, or an actress, or…”
“Stop avoiding the subject.” She pulled her hand away and glared at him. “One of your most attractive character traits has always been your determination to keep Jack’s dream alive at the Chance. I’m not about to let you lose it simply because some Toronto businesswoman decides to give you a run for your rights.”
“I like it when you have fire in your eyes.” His lips quirked up on one corner. “Okay, I’ll give it a fight. But lawyers cost big bucks. Jack paid me a decent wage, but I didn’t get rich. The bit I put aside is for my mother’s retirement. I can’t go risking it on the outside chance I might win in a civil case against someone with the connections Allison Armstrong must have.”
“I can help.” She spoke softly, carefully. “If it’s only money that’s holding you back…”
“Hell, Jesse, as if I’d take money from you!”
“Okay, okay. Just something I wanted to throw out there. No need to take major offense.”
“Sorry.” He returned his attention to his beer.
“She’s still getting to you…even after more than twelve years.” He looked up to see her dark eyes, serious and insightful. “My God, Heath, a girl you fell in love with all that long ago…”
“I never said I fell in love with her.” The words snapped out sharper than he’d intended. “Sorry, again.” He moderated his tone. “It was a teenage thing that she killed with her spoiled brat persona. Love? I hardly think so. I’d say a lingering animosity is more descriptive of our relationship.”
“Really?” Her fingers toyed with the stem of her wine glass as she gazed down into the Chardonnay. “Hmm.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just hmm. Wondering, speculating.”
“Well, then, don’t. We’re out to enjoy the evening.”
“And maybe back to my place afterwards?”
****
He paused at the door of her house as she fumbled for the key in her purse. They’d done this many times over the years, when they both needed to share a night without commitment or morning-after guilt. She had no desire to be tied to anyone or anything aside from her medical practice, and he for some reason had never been able to get seriously involved with anyone or anything outside of the Chance.
He watched as she fitted the key in the lock, shoved open the door, clicked on the foyer light, and turned back to face him, smiling. “Well?” She held out a hand.
“Hell, Jesse…” He was stumbling, as awkward as he’d been on that rotten high school date all those years ago.
“Oh, my God. Don’t tell me. She comes back after all these years, gives you one hell of a hard time, and now we can’t be friends with benefits anymore.” Clamping her hands on her hips, she stared out at him.
“No, no, it’s nothing like that. I’m just not…”
“In the mood, have a headache, need to get up early? Come on, Heath, spit out all the old clichés.”
“Jesse…”
“What am I saying?” Her words softened as she stepped back outside to stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. “I knew this day was coming. The day when she’d either return or you’d really and truly fall in love with someone. Not to worry, my darling. I understand.”
She turned, went inside, and closed the door. He stood on the step for a few moments. When she snapped off the porch light, he headed back to his Jeep.
Man, you’re an idiot. A gorgeous woman is willing to go to bed with you, and you blow it. That snotty little brown-haired wench from Toronto has done one hell of a job on you. You’d better get over it, and fast.